


Wake

by SherlyWats



Category: Halloween (2018), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Celtic Mythology & Folklore, F/M, Irish Mythology & Folklore, Set in the '78-2018 timeline, also used info from the novelization of the '78 film, darkship, hope my attempt at writing an Irish accent is okay, written for self-indulgence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 12:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlyWats/pseuds/SherlyWats
Summary: It's a dangerous game, trust. He doesn't know the woman who takes him in to treat his wounds, and she barely has any inkling of who he is. But Michael Myers and Cleena Collins must learn to trust one another if either of them are going to survive when he turns up worse for the wear and she's the one to find him. || Description written by Yoru_The_Rogue because I couldn’t come up with anything.





	Wake

He couldn't remember how he had gotten here. All he recalled was a voice in his mind forcing him to press on through the immense pain. It knew he could get out of the still burning building even if his body screamed in protest. The many hits that had been inflicted upon him were taking their toll as was the lapping of the flames at his skin. Pungent aroma of burning flesh filling his nostrils through his mask as he pushed at the bars of his cage with all the might he had left. Weakened from the same fire that was threatening to swallow him whole the wood creaked and finally splintered. His bulky form catching and getting torn on exit, but he was free and he broke for the door before the house had time to trap him once more. A massive bleeding and smoldering shape he staggered and dragged his pain ridden body into the surrounding woods. The best he could figure he must have blacked out and been found among the trees because that was were his memory stopped.

It wasn't the sanitarium as far as he could tell, at least not the one he was familiar with. Given the facing wall was made up of several large windows he greatly doubted that it was a facility or even a hospital. Head pivoting so he could fully take in the unfamiliar terrain. Noting every window, door, and dark space of what he surmised was a bedroom. Clattering of porcelain drawing his attention and a murmur for blood to his mind. Pushing down the incessant urge for slaughter, it wasn't time yet. Understanding his current position so he could pick up essential details to continue on his true path came first.

Sea green eyes peeked into the room answering the first of his many questions. 'What else was in the house?' A female.

"You're awake! Good. I was worried you would be out for several more days." The stranger's words were tinted with an accent that made them hard for him to decipher. Worried sounding more like 'wahrried' and out like 'ooeht'. "Far quicker still though than I thought possible with 'ow badly you've been banged up." 

She approached slowly with a silver tray heaped high with various things carried in her hands. Smile almost lost in the freckles that were scattered around her face. It was how firmly her eyes were locked upon his that made things suddenly clear. His mask. He wasn't wearing his mask. A sharp and anger-filled grunt erupted from his throat as he made to stand and find it.

"No no no!" Tray set hastily down she dashed forward and made to push him back down upon the bed. Unfortunately even greatly wounded his strength far surpassed her's and she was easily cast aside. Falling hard with a thunk that clattered her teeth together. 

Objects and clothes flying across the room in a flurry as he tore through dresser drawers searching. Unfound he pivoted gracefully on his heel and stalked slowly towards the startled woman. A chorus for gore starting up loudly and almost drowning out his own thoughts. His hand already clasped around her small throat as she dangled above the wooden floor. Scratching and kicking in an attempt to get away as she looked upon him wide eyed. Eyes locking again and the chorus suddenly halted mid demand. Nearly forgotten a name instead took its place which for the first time he could recall caused him to go cold and drop her. Huffing and gasping to refill her lungs with precious air as if they'd been empty all her life. Crouching as close to her level as he could which set her body rigid in fear she dared to look up at him again. Dark eye searching her face to be sure things were correct as she searched for some answer to the outburst. She'd heard trauma could cause outbursts in people, but once they understood what was really happening and where they were things would settle back down. Perhaps that was what had happened, he certainly appeared to have gone through Hell if not more. 

"I won't hurt you. You are okay." She reassured him though she was sure she couldn't harm this Goliath with her bare hands if she tried. Heavy 'ah's puncturing into won't and okay making her comfort go almost missed by him. Huffing through his nostrils and standing once more so he could more calmly gauge the situation. Cautious, but optimistic the woman gathered herself to stand as well hoping to start fresh. Picking up the tray and some of the things that has fallen from it in her tumble beside it. "I brought food, somethin' more for de pain, and fresh bandages." She explained at his piercing glance towards her. "Your outfit or what is left o' it, is being washed before I can try and patch 'er up." 

'Left?' A flash of . . . concern darted through his mind that his mask may not have survived the fire as easily as he had. He wondered how that could be possible though. The mask was him and if he had survived it must have as well.

"Now sit." Voice firm yet he still caught the tremble of worry. Reluctantly sitting back on the bed until he could figure out what fate had become of his mask. Until he was sure he was seeing her correctly. Dainty hands placing the tray beside him and handing him a round loaf of bread. "Eat and I can replace dese bandages." Once he grabbed it from her hand she was already quickly peeling back red stained fragments of cloth to replace with fresh white ones. It stung more than he had expected and he jerked and grunted more than once as she worked. Bread long since greedily devoured before she was even half finished. Studying her smaller form as she delicately removed layer after layer of old gauze. The scene not adding up in his mind for reasons he could not yet put rightly together. The clapping of her hands bringing him back to the current time. "Finished. Now that de bad and ugly is out o' the way. Cleena Collins." The word ugly had become 'oehgly' upon the Irish woman's tongue as she introduced herself. The same smile she'd entered the room with back on her face, wild fear far removed from the sea in her eyes. Greeting hanging awkwardly in the silent air as he made no attempt to respond. Black hue catching her nails digging into her palms as the silence overcame the semblance of normal that had just begun its return. 

"Klee-u-na." Slower this time, sounding out her name for him in hopes that may spark a reply. 

He pointed at her and just as she was going to let it go. "Dir-dree." A hoarse and gravelly voice that could have been lost on a soft gust of wind. 

"Deirdre?" The question brought what she assumed was a chuff of satisfaction at her understanding. She couldn't have been more confused though. Deirdre of the Sorrows was a tale which she was very familiar with, but the connection to the now was escaping her. It certainly was not who she was, though she was a bit tentative to correct the other on this. "Well den I'll call you Enda until you want to give me your name." Remaining darkness of his sight hard locked onto her at her utterance in a way that made her blood quicken its pace. Coughing to clear up the fog that had descended upon her mind. "Since you're finally up I'll be phoning the hospital. What I-"

Words became trapped in her throat at the strong hand that once more tightened around her throat. That spark of fright in full bloom across her features causing another whisper for him to snuff it out. His raspy breath coming out in a grouse against her intentions. 

Wordless though the demand was she understood and did her best to cough out a response. "I - won't - call." Released she stumbled back against the wall. The hulking shape that occupied her once peaceful space seeming to dare her to break that promise. Cleena had an almost primal understanding that if she did no matter how carefully he would know and he would kill her. What she had thought was a good deed in bringing him here from where she'd found him in the woods had taken a very harsh and dangerous turn. Sidestepping slowly out of the room, fearing that a sudden movement may incur his wrath. 

Who exactly had she lugged back to her home on the outskirts of Haddonfield?

\- - -

The news of the fire at the Strode house hadn't taken long to find its way to even her. At first the name's importance had drummed up a blank, but as she'd pulled still stained coveralls from the dryer it clicked. Terror then clutched so tightly to her heart that black had begun to inch into her vision. Thunderous crashing from another room drawing her back from nearly fainting. Sprinting into the room to find the man she'd more than incorrectly deemed Enda flat on his back on the floor. Crouching beside him quickly she picked up the faint rise and fall of his chest through the thin shirt he'd had on under his original attire. Somehow the idea of him being dead had caused her a panic that rushed out in a relieved sigh at discovering he was simply unconscious from his wounds. This contradiction to all her waking questions of how she would get away from him strumming up a plan as if to correct her misjudgment. Michael Myers lay defenseless at her feet, if she was quick enough perhaps she could kill him. The Irish woman doubted she'd get a second shot. As she made to turn from him though a shriek escaped at the tight grip that had suddenly encompassed her wrist. Whipping her head around to find Michael slowly sitting upright, grip still firm around her. Sightless eye digging a hole into her as if he had somehow plucked the thoughts straight from her mind. 

"You passed out." They were the only words that sprung to mind. A bland statement that hid non of the quivering. 

Somehow that had passed as an answer though for his grasp loosened and he stood. Showing no signs of having just been blacked out on the floor. Knowing who he truly was made the feat seem no less remarkable. Fate seemed to be playing tricks or perhaps he could simply read her like a book, but his eye fixated upon her's in that all too familiar firm stare just as she pondered what kept him upright. He held out his left hand to her, the fourth and fifth digit of which were missing. Tentatively she took it and with ease was hoisted off the ground. She'd taken note of how massive he was in comparison to her before, but now he seemed almost like a skyscraper. Surmising he held at least two feet on her which would have impressed her did the fact not make him all the more terrifying. 

He nodded his head in the direction of the door she'd come in from. A sign she had come to learn as one to leave him be that she gratefully took. The way he seemed to so easily read her caused great unease and she longed to be somewhere she felt her brain wasn't being combed through. Regretfully however just when she felt she was clear a great shadow loomed overhead. Stepping around her and making his way to the room she'd been in before, the laundry room. It then dawned on her that he'd heard the dryer go off which was why he'd gotten out of bed to begin with.

"It's still not ready. It needs to be hand washed and I haven't even begun to patch her up." Every h dissipated before exiting her mouth leaving words without their start. 

Warning unheeded in it's entirety he'd pulled his jumpsuit from where it lay and pulled it on in one fluid motion. There was something about the way that such an imposing man could move so nimbly that captured a bird within her heart. Obsidian gaze once more rooted to her position in the space making her skin crawl. Darting to find anything to tear it away from her she spied one of many rips in the fabric of his clothes. 

"At least let me fix it?" A tentative question that at least served the purpose of drawing his eye back in on himself. 

A grunt and a nod were the only response she got, but it was better than nothing she supposed. 

Perhaps if she mended it he would be on his way. Perhaps if she mended it she would be free one way or another.

\- - -

He'd grown oddly accustomed to the small home of his rescuer. Each nook and cranny cataloged in perfect detail within his mind. Searching the house in silence for the part of him that was still missing. Growing fond of the freedom he had to move about the house no matter the time of day. Though his host had expressed a great deal of panic over the few times she'd caught him around the house after dark. He enjoyed the gleam of alarm particularly the horror which had devoured her on the one instance she had actually found him within her room. 

All too aware that the visage of Deirdre was merely tormenting him. A nightmare that refused to let up. Consistently treating him with every kindness, but any moment his true colors showed that courtesy was gone. Endless glimpses into a past that he felt as though he had lived himself though it had taken place a millennia ago. Echos assuring him that once he found his true face it could all be over. Every inch had been scoured though and he had still found no sign of it.

Confronting the petite woman in the kitchen as soon as morning came for his patience had warn thin. 

"Aye! Can you at least give me some warnin'?" An empty question that she knew full well he would not respond to. 

Pointing to his own face as that wave of déjà vu at her reaction to his approach subsided. Her questioning look causing anger to rise in his chest. Pointing this time at his coveralls and then again to his face. Watching the understanding roll in like the tide upon her face.

"You want the other part of your outfit? That . . . mask." Cleena struggled to get the word out as she recalled how much it had shaken her when she'd stumbled upon his fainted form on a hike through the woods. The silence reaffirming that she'd guessed correctly. Color evacuating, pulling away the roses in her cheeks which more than answered his quandary. "It was damaged in de fire badly as it were and I 'ad to cut it in some places to get it off your face." Voice the whisper of one who feared the storm that was lighting up his eye. 

Teeth ground together and a fist crashed into the cupboard beside her head splintering the door. The sound that emitted from him neither a shout nor a scream. It was something low and horrible all its own that's true power lied in the fact it seemed to be repressed within his throat by vocal cords he'd long since deemed purposeless. She'd jumped and covered her head to shelter herself from the downpour of wood. Fear that both satiated and mocked him in full play and he found the cooing of the voice within his mind to be undeniable. His hand grabbing for one of many knives that sat sheathed in wood as Cleena barely managed to dodge and roll around his grasp. Her many brushes with the murderous intent that rang in his mind having sharpened her reaction time to be passable for escape. 

They both knew there was no way out of the house nor within the house that he could not find her though. Thus the trembling and panicked woman simply stood before him ready to flee. Hoping against hope that if she could evade him for long enough he would regain his composure. Those eyes of hers not once darting away from his and the thirst for blood circled in on itself in confusion. 

"Dir-dree." His faint utterance of the name almost extinguished by the pounding of her heart. Something striking her core about the recitation of the name so heavily woven into her heritage.

So badly wanting to tell him that wasn't who she was and to stop calling her that. Slowly approaching with the knife in his grasp however drove out another response entirely. "Enda I'm sorry! Please! You don't need that mask 'ere." 

A flash of recognition crossed his face and all at once he was upon his knees before her with the knife clanging to the floorboards. Even stooped his stature was still of such a height that his eyes seemed nearly level with hers. Milky blue eye drawing her gaze over the other that reflected only darkness. Creased and wrinkled features of his face only now reading to her as signs of natural age and not of ware from the world. 

"You don't need that mask 'ere." She repeated firmly, risking a smile that she hoped read as genuine.

\- - -

An eerie semblance of peace washed over Cleena's home that was only broken upon entering her spare room. Michael had become practically catatonic to the point where she'd more than once feared he'd gone into a coma. She brought him food that he hardly ate and his movement around the house had become restricted to the restroom and back. The only true sign of life he gave was how focused his gaze always became when she entered the room. Sometimes she swore she felt it piercing through her back even outside of the room. His wounds were slowly starting to heal of their own accord though and a ray of light began to shine. 

'Maybe he'll leave once he's better.'

Larger were the clouds that drifted into her mind. 'What will happen once he wants to leave?'

\- - -

Stirring and thunderous the voice had become. Relentless waves tormenting every waking moment. Every breath. Unsure when the last time he slept was. Uncertain as he sat staring out the windows into the woods if he had eaten. Unclear if he needed either to thrive. A strumming had begun at his core that took him over in a way the fire only wished it had. A memory replaying over and over again that Michael knew did not belong to him.

 

A woman surrounded in shadow yelling for him to get away from her. Shouting at him what everyone always had. Monster.

\- - -

Loud bellowing jolted her from a sound slumber. Practically flying down her staircase towards the source of the commotion. Into the only place it could be coming from, Michael's room. Entering to find him in a fury, toppling over what little furniture there was in the room. Every window had been smashed and the floor littered with splinters of glass. Cleena made to cross the darkened distance carefully, Michael veering from his path of destruction towards her with another bellow.

Easily he'd suspended her to his eye level by the sides. Fingers firmly pressing into her ribs in such a way that her breathing stuttered. Holding her so steadily that for what seemed to be the first time she fastened her look onto his right eye. Trying to read him in the way he so often read her. What she found was a recollection of a crow among red stained snow. 

"Naoise." The name was foreign yet somehow welcomed upon her tongue, Michael's fingers digging more into her sides. "You were never Enda." 

He hollered wordlessly directly into her face. A sound that should have shaken her yet only served to make her more resolute.

"Naoise." She repeated even more certainly. "My bloodied crow." 

A breath hitched and it was unclear who's. His grip loosened enough for her to slip back down to the floor. Ocean of green still locked onto the blackness of night. Both parties frozen in an effort to not be the first to make the next move.

Finally a voice that wavered in uncertainty came out as quietly as a footfall in snow. "Dir-dree."

\- - -

Just as the quiet suburb of Haddonfield was getting back to normal word got out that there were no remains which matched one Michael Audrey Myers in the wreckage of Laurie Strode's home. A search had begun for the murderer, but once they reach the woods things had become murky. Police being in short number thanks to the man they hoped to apprehend making things even harder. It was clear that the town would not rest though until he was found so the search continued. Following any lead it could find no matter how small or how little sense it seemed to make, but then again sense had never applied to the killings.

\- - -

The dynamic had changed in a way Michael wasn't sure he understood. That thing which compelled him forward with only the goal of slaughter had become confused and quiet. It was both freeing and worrying all at once as if he were losing some part of himself. He pondered if perhaps the loss of his mask had more greatly affected him than he'd considered possible. If they really were one in the same and its demise meant part of him had died with it. The only part of him that had churned and stirred for some fifty plus years. Long since had he grown away from the boy he was and become something else usually only seen in a nightmare. Who or what was he without that? Not a man that much he was certain of. 

In an attempt to find some solace from the silence he'd become active again. Wandering the house not only at night, but during the light hours as well. Taking in small things about the home he had ignored initially. A small bookcase filled only with travel guides, books on nursing practices, and a disused Bible. Closets and dressers that seemed to only hold moth eaten clothes of sizes he knew were too large for his host. The tiny water spots on the ceiling and chips in the paint of the walls long needing repair. Several first aid kits, a wheelchair, crutches, and a cabinet filled with pills that he picked up one by one to see if he recognized. 

Things seemed to be clicking into place about the petite woman who'd taken him in. He didn't have the want or capacity to learn of these things from her. This way was far more appealing and permitted things to still be clouded enough for more discovery. It prevented the tedium that he so highly dreaded above most things in life. Most of all it left room for him to observe. 

Soundless and motionless as the darkness that hid him. To the untrained eye he was practically undetectable. He could watch whoever he pleased for as long as he desired. Darkened hue taking in small things about the Irish woman as she went about the house or slept. Nails that dug into her palm whenever she seemed nervous or deeply focused on something. Faint mumblings that escaped her lips as she lay curled in bed. A scar that ran the length of her left calf. The fifty-two freckles which were scattered about her face. He'd attempted more than once to count those around her body, but as of yet had been unsuccessful. 

A rapping at the door drawing his attention away from his current attempt. Instead making his way to the window which gave him the best view of the front door yet kept him concealed. 

\- - -

"Be down in a minute!" Cleena shouted in vain around her shower curtain. A huff of exasperation as she turned off the hot water and hurried to dress herself as whoever was at the door continued to knock. Towel firmly wrapped around her still dripping hair. Taking a moment to peak into her room to check Michael's attention was on the door from a safe distance and that he wasn't somewhere else in the house. Pleased with seeing his outline against the window she hustled down her stairs to the door. Opening it just as the person on the other side was raising their hand to knock once more. Finding a middle aged police officer standing on her step she felt her palms go clammy. 

"Good evening Ma'am." He tipped the brim of his brown cap at her, a soft smile on his face.

"Officer? What brings you out 'ere?" She asked, taking in the scenery behind him as quickly as she could. Only one car and the lights weren't even on. So why had they come all the way to her house?

"You've no doubt heard the news about uh-" He paused as if unsure how much information he should give to the civilian. "a dangerous man who's whereabouts are still unknown. Your property is one of the closest to the scene. I wanted to make sure you haven't seen or heard of anything or anyone out of the ordinary?"

What she wanted to say was that he had no idea how "out of the ordinary" her life had become over the last few weeks. That she no longer remembered what the word "ordinary" meant. "No Sir I can't say I have." Was the grand lie that came out without hesitation.

"Is there anybody else living with you who may have seen anything?" He questioned and she caught his eyes as they looked everywhere, but at her. As if he would see the man he was looking for right behind her. Which all things considered wasn't entirely impossible. 

Cleena shook her head, "No. Just me." She smiled in a way that she hoped didn't read as false. He must have bought it though because he was already turning to make his way back to his vehicle.

"Sorry to trouble you then Ma'am. Call us if you do see anything!" He shot a rather halfhearted wave back at her before entering his car and pulling out of her driveway and onto the road out of site.

The decompression was instantaneous. Back pressing against the door before it was even fully closed behind her and letting out a heavy sigh. Eyes darting upwards to lock on the one she knew would already be down there with her. Saying nothing only meeting her gaze with an intense firmness. Something she read as trust. That she'd done the right thing. 

Did she have a choice though? If she told the truth he'd have heard and would have ended the both of them. If she did somehow manage not to get killed they'd just take him away and - ? 

'And what?' The question lingered in her mind. Wasn't the point to get rid of him? Wasn't that what she wanted?

Eyes still wordlessly locked she found her answer.

No.

\- - -

The threat of confinement was behind him once more, at least for the time being. He knew they'd be back. They always came back. When they did he'd be ready, but for now he was more interested in assessing who had made them depart. Her posture had changed around him. No longer seeming to withdraw or cower before him. Nor did she tense defensively, ready to spring away or at him if need be. This was a way of carrying herself which he was unaccustomed to viewing in the open. He had seen people in their natural stances before, but always in secret. Spying on them from the shadows without their knowledge. Yet here she was before him undeterred and he found that just as curious as the lack of waiver to her voice upon speaking with the cop.

Reflexively his hand gripped and loosened around a knife that wasn't there. He was in that moment not the shape of a man. Not the one who would kill her without question. It was Michael Myers not the Boogeyman which stood before her. Who's impulse to kill all that lay before him seemed to count her as the one exception. Perhaps he really was Naoise rather than Enda. 

A crow she had stumbled upon in blood soaked snow. 

He could not deny the aching twinge he felt when he had first taken in the sight of her. The perfect recreation of the woman he'd too often seen in nightmares. A dull ache which ensnared his lungs and enlivened the beat of his heart. Feelings that were foreign to this form yet somehow remembered perfectly. He had not felt physical pain in years, not really felt it anyway. Yet here stood an unarmed woman a fraction of his stature that struck a deep blow simply by him gazing upon her. Something he wanted desperately to end and in some far reach of his mind express. Words were tiresome though and the only course of action he saw for ending it was to snuff her out. A proposition which would have been agreeable to the mask, but seemed somehow out of the question for him. 

Somewhere in the span of his thoughts he had approached her, toes nearly touching. Her gaze looking up at him questioningly. He could see the way she was trying to piece things together in her mind. Trying to read him. A thought which would have caused him at any other time to roll his eyes. Instead he found the attempt endearing, that she thought she could match him in assessing another without the use of words. The look on her face told him that despite the attempt however she'd come up empty. 

Before the inevitable verbal questionnaire could be started he threw it off. Slowly and gently his right thumb caressed her forehead in a line. The touch creating a rigidity in her that was unexpected yet not all together undesired. It answered the question that was burning there with the inability of being asked.

Did that same agonizing grip exist in her as it did in him?

Yes.

\- - -

Some three-hundred yards away from the home of Cleena Collins an investigation had begun in the woods to track down Michael Myers. Several teams had been formed and any dog with half a sense for tracking brought in. Scouring the area for anything they had missed in their initial comb over. Autumn weather having since covered tracks which could have been more easily followed. Hounds following a path of unseen blood through the large cluster of trees. Barking and howling as they came across stronger areas of scent. Tatters of cloth and small crimson stains that had yet to be swallowed up by nature. An ambling path that became clearer as they exited the woods to the other side. Encroaching on a small property that one of the cops among them recognized. 

The dogs circled the home quickly and quietly, but made no moves away from it. If this truly was were he had come they had him pinned.

\- - -

Distant sounds of the search had rustled the sandy haired woman from her slumber. Making her way to a window of her room to see if she could figure out what was going on. Unsurprised to find that Michael was already staring out one of them and into the woods beyond her property. Taking a spot at the window beside him she caught the faint glows of light sweeping through the wooded landscape. 

"Oh no." Her voice was faint and she looked up at the man beside her who's gaze had not shifted. "Couldn't hide you forever I suppose." Cleena's could forming into 'cooehld' and suppose shaping into 'soehppahse'. 

Michael looked down at her then and she felt she understood that he was questioning her comment. If he was questioning why she would hide him or that this did not mean he was found she was uncertain.

Looking back outside she caught the movement of figures below her window and still stepping clear of the woods. Coming in closer and closer to her front door.

"Stay here." If she'd intended for her words to be an order they had shaken on departure. Leaving her bedroom as quickly as she could and not daring to check if he had listened. If she could just make it to the ground floor before they entered then - .

There was a deafening crash as she'd begun descending the stairs which caused her to topple and skid down the remaining steps. Falling painfully on her rear at the foot of them to only be instantly blinded by lights. The officer she recognized as the one who'd questioned her before rushing to her side. 

"Ma'am! Are you alright?" That same kind yet firm voice greeting her ears.

"Yes." Adjusting to the mingle of darkness with harsh florescent bulbs she watched several others clear the few rooms of her ground floor. Thankful for once that Michael was the way he was and was not in his room. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. He - "

"We know how he is you don't have to apologize. Now where is he?" The cop asked, a hand on her shoulder.

"Upstairs. In - " An idea struck. "In the junk room. Second door on the left. I don't think he has a weapon." Her voice rose as she spoke. Not to a shout, but to just above the commotion of the others searching her home. Hoping it would be enough.

\- - -

The commotion below would have drowned out her voice had his ears already not been astutely picking it up. He crept into the shadows, nearly becoming one himself. Waiting silently just beyond the door frame of Cleena's bedroom. There had been one thing she hadn't lied about and that was that presently he was very much unarmed. He didn't care either way though, he was just as able to take the group down without a weapon as with one. 

One by one they passed by him on their way to the door beside his hiding place. Getting into position to break down the door and charge in guns blazing. He pulled the closest one into the abyss before things were in place. A burst of gunfire following the man's scream that quickly went silent with a snap of bone.

Cover blown, but alarmed a handful dashed into the room while others darted for cover. Michael's ability to lurk just out of sight permitting him to take care of those who had entered his domain one by one with only a few grazes. It would be exiting the room that he knew would cause him some trouble.

A new set of feet had begun to mount the staircase. 

"Get back down!" A strange voice shouted as a familiar weight creaked the floorboards at the top of the stairs.

"I will not!" Her voice floated into the darkness and he took a step from his shroud to view her.

"It's not safe up here Ma'am." The one who'd been talking to her before. His arm was on her shoulder again, shoving her back in the opposite direction.

His hand flexed and in their distraction they missed him emerging. Grabbing the man who'd been trying to push her away by his throat and clamping around it with a force unseen before. Face becoming a gross contortion of what it was prior as the eyes and tongue bulged outward. He was dead long before he had time to register Michael was there. Other's panicking at the sudden reveal and firing their weapons in what they hoped was his general direction. One bolting for the stairs and shoving Cleena hard out of the way causing her to topple into the door of her own room. 

It was the sound of her fall in body and voice that drew his attention away from the gunfire. A bullet managing to hit him firmly in the right shoulder as he turned to her. A rough grunt of pain hissing from his lips and his attention was back. That voice which he thought dead crying out loudly for him to end those who were impeding him. Impeding them. 

Slow. Controlled. There was never a need to rush. He approach what remained of the intruders and one by one took care of them not permitting any to flee. Knowing those that escaped would only return with more to make things harder. If things were to be as they should none could be allowed to leave while breathing. 

Reveling in the bloodshed. Taking bullet after bullet to his body and brushing them off as if they were merely rubber bands flung at him. He had never been sure why the normal pains of man were but a fantasy to him. Currently however he was thankful for it. Pushing himself in a way that left the living shaking and second guessing the battle they had chosen to wage. 

The final gunman taken by the arm and shoved to the ground so he could become a goo under Michael's boot. 

A grotesque scene lay sprawled around him. The smell of blood thick, but inconsequential to its creator. Loud rattlings in his mind finding a way to calm themselves as he surveyed the area to be sure he had not missed anyone. Finally settling back to a state of rest as his one good eye landed on Cleena who sat curled in the doorway of her bedroom. Cheek already becoming dark from her tumble and he felt a growl rattle from his throat at the sight of it. 

Slower than he perhaps ever had he walked towards her. Heavy boots impeccably light even on the wooden flooring. Sea green eyes only looking up into his face when he was nearly stepping on her. 

There were many questions lingering behind those eyes. This was not the place to answer them though and even she knew that. He reached out his hand to her and felt a bolt of lightning when she took it.

"Where will we go?" She asked and he heard a tremble in her voice that he knew was not from his actions, but for him. 

Expected though it was he had not prepared an answer for her. The only other home he knew had been long since destroyed. He was no fool and knew that even if it hadn't been it would be out of the question to go there. There was nowhere that he could any longer call home. Nodding his head towards the stairs he began his decent hoping she would follow after. Even if they had no place to stay they certainly could not risk staying here any longer. So into the unknown he would take her.

\- - -

She wasn't very certain how comfortable she felt being the passenger in her own car with who was behind the wheel. Everything that had occurred at her home however had nearly stolen all words from her. So no questions asked she climbed in beside him and buckled up as they drove away. To where she didn't know nor ask. Somewhere safe she hoped.

Though her hopes had not been high the closest thing to safety for the time being was a more than seedy looking motel. It would have to do she supposed. Paying for a room she knew she'd find Michael already broken into when she unlocked the door. Taking in the dingy surroundings as she flicked on the dying lights. The thought of how ridiculous it was to see Michael Myers in a motel nearly causing her to laugh out loud from how wired she was. The thought that crawled in after holding in the laugh with a tint of red.

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them of a line that wasn't to be crossed. After the tension, the panic, and the pain of the past few hours though that line seemed fuzzy. Dark eye always watching her from not far off locked on a puffy blue and brown spot that encompassed her left cheek. Her own eyes staring at it in a grimy mirror as she poked the tender flesh. Sharp wince escaping her lips as she did. 

He was there in an instant, her wrist held firm in his left hand to prevent her from continuing. There was a mist in her glance that he was unsure if it was from the pain or from the wear of the day. Frowning when her gaze traveled over to one of many fresh holes in his jumpsuit that was still staining the surrounding area with red. 

Soft as a feather his thumb ran over her wounded cheek with a look that read to her as. "You shouldn't have interfered." Cleena wanted to rebuttal, but that same thumb had traveled where she was unaccustomed. Running in a slow circle across her lips in a way that caused a joint reaction of her body tensing yet also relaxing. Unable to suppress the urge she returned a soft kiss to the digit as it passed by once more. 

The line was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Wake
> 
> verb
> 
> 1\. emerge or cause to emerge from a state of sleep.
> 
> 2\. hold a vigil beside someone who has died.
> 
> noun
> 
> 1\. collective name for crows when feeding.


End file.
